Vika
by Jaeger Gipsy Danger
Summary: Drabble (PWP) about a moment between Vika and Ulfric Stormcloak. I don't know what came over me. Just started typing and wound up with this little story. BTW, Vika is my OC from my other Skyrim stories. She only behaves this way here. This is adult stuff. Now, you've been warned. So if you don't belong here or you feel it's not your thing, then, CYA! Otherwise, enjoy!


TITLE: Vika

CHAPTER: COMPLETE

FANDOM: Elder Scrolls, Skyrim

SERIES: Skyrim - Skyrim Adventures

Story 1: To Take a Tree From the Forest

Story 2: What is Hidden in Snow

Story 3: Starfire

Story 4: Vika

AN: WARNING. This is erotic fiction. If you are not old enough to read this or you worry you'll find this offensive then stop right HERE. You have been warned. Otherwise, my goodness! I don't know what came over me this morning. Is it Spring?

* * *

Vika the Dragonborn, hero of Skyrim, and champion of Talos slammed open the reinforced wooden doors of Ulfric Stormcloak's palace with one well-placed Thu'um. The doors rocked on their iron hinges and the startled guards jump out of the way. Seconds after she enters, the guards withdrew their hands from half-drawn swords and returned to their position of attention. No one dares look her in the eye.

She spares them a quick glance as she strides past. They know what she's here for and what she wants. A few of them would be happy to try to provide it. However, there is a general agreement that she's too much of a black widow spider about her. No one wanted to end up dead at her hands after she's used them up. Although one or two of the most self-assured men and a woman of court claimed, they'd be willing to die trying.

The palace guard reacts quickly by clearing the feasting room of guests and assorted court lackeys. Even the old Stormcloak General Galmar Stone-Fist withdraws from the war room when he hears the ringing sound of her Nordic armor on the stone floor as she passes.

Doors close and women withdraw discreetly to their chambers. The men head down to the cellar where they can draw a cool cup of mead to pass the time. Sometimes they get a two-hour break. Occasionally it's as long as four hours. The cards and dice come out. The men nod and smirk at each other. They raise their cups and offer a silent toast to the Bear of Windhelm, before settling in for an afternoon of drinking and games.

When Vika reached Ulfric's throne, she is naked from her chausses up. Behind her in an untidy line her weapons, gauntlet, helmet, and cuirass lay discarded on the stones. The fine metal hauberk slithered from her hands. The linen shirt soon followed, and Ulfric watched in fascination as her full high breasts bounce to the beat of her steps.

Ulfric Stormcloak rises slowly from his throne to face the warrior headed his way. That he's the only one of these milk-drinking boys with cods to take her on makes the blood in his veins surge and boil like a witch's caldron. In truth, she bewitched him the first time he laid eyes on her. She's ten steps from him when he notices the ax wound on her upper right arm. She will be difficult to sate tonight, he reminds himself. Blood — her blood — drips rhythmically from the rent flesh. Ulfric licks his lips.

She knows all about the effect she's having on him. Just as she knows, he's rock hard and ready for her. He'd better be. She's been in the field, fighting all day, and she's ready for her reward.

Ulfric took a long hard breath while his hand involuntarily reaches to ease the ache in his groin. Talos! He's lightheaded from the lust throbbing between his thighs. His engorged cock beats against his codpiece like a Raptor fighting its traces.

She slaps his hand away with a grin. "Ulfric!"

The Bear of Windhelm smiles back, but he's been waiting for her since dawn. He's hungry, for news and her. She is his eyes and ears in the violent world outside his door. It's the world, where he can no longer fight like a soldier. As the Jarl, he must stand back protected, safely away from the fighting.

"You know the rules. I decide when and if you can touch anything..."

She's the only one in Skyrim who dares speak to him this way. With another flush of desire, he realizes today is different. He's waited long enough for her, and longing fills his heart as lust boils in his gut. He needs to feel his arms around her — he may even love her — if such a thing existed in his world. He must see to her wound, and he decides he will do it himself. When she steps into the reach of his hands, he grabs her by the wrist.

Ulfric notices the surprise on her face, as he uses her momentum to pull her straight onto his throne. He moves quickly aside, and she lands with a thump on the soft cushion. Before she can protest, he kicked off her boots and yanked off her chausses. With just the strength of his hands, she is very quickly naked to his gaze. Her legs fall open. The curly red mound between her legs that hides her sex glistened with desire. Full breasts teased him with their pointed dark red tips.

Tonight, she will bend to his will. Ulfric reached for the bottle of Argonian blood wine next to his chair and soaked a strip of linen with the dark red liquid. She gasps as he tightened the wet strip around the wound. When her back arches up to him, he drops to his knees and slides one arm under her back. Before he claims her lips, he poured more wine into her mouth.

When his tongue plunges into her open mouth to savor the wine, she moans and struggles beneath him. The wine flowed from their frantic kissing to her breasts. Ulfric follows the stream down her body with greedy kisses, spreading the thick liquid over her taut flesh with his tongue. Vika wraps her arms around his head, to hold him still against her chest.

He requires no urging to fulfill her desires. When he can, he enjoys opening her clothes to allow her breasts to spill into his hands. They fill his palms and respond to his fingers. The need to fill his mouth and hands with a desire-hardened nipple often drives him to wake her in the night or seek her out in the castle. Vika always responds to his needs by fulfilling his fantasies. Indeed, he smiles at the memories; she's been deflowered on this throne several times and more than just a few times dressed up for him as a serving wench. Occasionally, when there's time for it, she walked through the throne room dressed as a mage. Ulfric licks dry lips as he watches her walk with her hips swinging just for him, and he knows she's naked underneath.

Vika pulls him back to the present with her hands fisted into his golden mane and commands him to use his mouth on her. She needs to feel his teeth on her flesh. There will be bruises on her porcelain skin by morning. So caught up in sating their hunger for each other they don't care. They've both known the pain of the heart and the flesh. The ferocity of their coupling is how they remind themselves they are alive.

She's chanting his name while her hips beat a frantic, needy rhythm against his chest.

Releasing her for a moment he backs away to shrug off his bear fur mantle. Before he can loosen his pants, she captures him with her long legs wrapped around his neck. With her ice blue eyes locked into his golden brown hawk-eyes, she pours a small amount of the wine into her hand. With a challenging grin, she slides her hand between her legs. Slipping them into the folds of her sex, he watched her push two fingers inside. His heart stops beating. She playfully allowed him one taste from her fingers before pulling him down to her.

Ulfric willingly buried his face in her sweet sex. The woman beneath him assaulted all of his senses. She smells of wood fire, horses, and blood. She tastes of woman, piss, and sweat. This combination intoxicates him, and she knows it, but there is no one else she would go to, and he knew that, too. Their fingers intertwine — in a gesture as gentle as their lovemaking is savage — as he places fervent kisses over the delicate folds of her sex.

When she calls his name again, he pressed his tongue deep inside and curled it around the small nub of nerves. When she cries out for release, he withdraws and buries his tongue deep within her. Ulfric continues the pattern until she is alternately screaming his name and whimpering for release. He knows perfectly well if he releases her hands, she will accomplish the task herself, so he holds onto her hands. His beard is soaked with her lust when he slides their laced hands under her hips. She raises herself up, serving herself to him and always tempting his desire.

When she is poised on the tip of his tongue, he flicks it across the small, inflamed mound, sucks hard, and pulls it into his mouth. While Ulfric watches in triumph as she writhes through her orgasm, he notes the bite marks on her breasts and belly. He will have to pay for this, but he doesn't mind. It's a fee he's happy to pay.

While she catches her breath, he allows himself a moment of tenderness and strokes his fingers through her wild mass of sunset red hair. The smile she bestows on him when her eyes open is almost worth a kingdom. Ulfric pulls her against his and kisses her mouth. They revel in the taste of each other.

Vika felt Ulfric shudder, and she knows it's time. She has teased him long enough. So moving quickly out of the chair she pushes him down. Opening his leather shirt, she allows her hands to explore his muscled torso. When she followed her hands with her mouth, Ulfric sighs in contentment.

Vika alternates biting with kisses as she works her way down his torso. He'll be damned if he begs, but he's about to cum like a green lad, and that won't do. He cannot stop the words that pour from his mouth over ragged breaths.

"Vika… Let… by the Gods!"

She wraps her hands around his phallus and pulls him roughly from his linen drawers. The chilly air of the palace freezes him in place. Beyond speaking, or breathing or begging and he knows what she'll do if he pushes into her hands, so he wills himself to stillness. He has not survived this long without learning a bit of self-control.

His eyes fly open when he feels a sharp stinging sensation on his straining cock. The wench has filled her mouth with the blood wine. There is no end to her wicked ways, and he loves it. Her full lips slide down over him. The soft stroke of her tongue combined with the sting of the wine intensifies the experience. Making a mental note to himself to order several cases of Argonian blood wine he sinks in his chair and gives himself over to her.

When her fingers follow the wine sliding under his sack, he can take no more. When her tongue danced down the thick vein of his shaft, he groans with a need, a sound he doesn't want her to hear. To hide the emotions from her, Ulfric takes her violently, lifts her, and impales her on his cock. No moment of hesitation, no waiting while she accommodates his size, instead, she takes him quick and deep into her body, engulfing him in hot sticky heat.

For which of them this more intense, he wonders. To bury a part of yourself trustingly inside a woman's body or to be impaled. He forgets the question when she begins to move over him.

With hands clasped again, they move as one body. Playfully, taking turns pushing each other to the edge, only to back down and pause. But he knows her secret and pulls her down to capture a breast in his mouth. Ulfric holds the cheeks of her firm bottom in his large hands and sets the pace. He knows what this does to her and soon she is quivering over him. He will take them over the edge together. When the tight muscular walls of her sex pulsed around him, he increases his thrusts until they are both panting with need.

When everything in him focuses on the point of their joining, Ulfric Stormcloak cries out her name and buries his face in her neck while he spills his seed into her. Ulfric hates this moment of surrender and vulnerability. Cherishes the feeling of holding her tenderly for just a few moments she allows him.

Neither willingly ready to give up the moment. They kiss slowly while they catch their breath. Hands smooth overheated skin and share lazy smiles while they cling together. This is the one respite they allow themselves from their violent and chaotic world.

Someday, he will say what is in his heart. But as he watches the chill return to her blue eyes, she stiffens in his arms. As he releases her, he knows today is not the day. He watches her walk away from him and head toward the bathing chamber alone. He exhales, takes a deep sip of wine, and acknowledges that this is as much as he may ever get from her. For now, it is enough.


End file.
